my footprints
on the path
melt
in the
morning sun
–Terry Chitwood
Footprints define you; they show your identity. When you leave no footprints, the market can’t stalk you. Becoming nothing, going nowhere, you become mist, leaving no tracks, being impossible to pin down, like a whisper in the wind.
No Thoughts
Never show your hand playing poker. Never show your intention trading the market. Become loose, flexible, difficult to find. While trading, let your mind disappear, leaving no thought trails, no hint of movement, becoming still as if in the center of a cyclone.
Still
In the deepest stillpoint of your being, in a place where there is no sound only silence, resides a fountain of energy, waiting to revitalize you and flow through you like a river. Being as fluid as water, you begin to see the market as a stream of energy, a melody moving between highs and lows, a song different each day—and yet the same.
A Melody
Becoming a note on the wind, enter the market song like a feather, barely brushing the music’s texture, becoming part of the song, part of the market, part of the rhythm of life. And being at one with life, you become more deeply yourself.
Photo Credit: Stock Photo by Egor Lisovsky.